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I find my life to be increasingly more depressing as I get older. I turned 26 recently. While many of my peers have moved out of Smalltown, Bass-Ackwards, started careers, or started families… I’m still here.
By warden-commander http://warden-commander.t...


by warden-commander

I find my life to be increasingly more depressing as I get older. I turned 26 recently.

While many of my peers have moved out of Smalltown, Bass-Ackwards, started careers, or started families… I’m still here.

I live with my parents and not with Lycan (and 2 cats, 1 dog, and a snek or rattie). I don’t have a career, I’m a fucking glorified waitress.

I can’t get any support for anything I want to do, and doing it without support is.. daunting, to say the least.

I want to move out and live with Lycan,

but to do that I (we) have to jump through some hoops to keep our families happy (mostly mine) because if we stay in their good graces we may be able to get help from them if we fall

on hard times down the road. So dad wants me to have a wedding. I don’t want a wedding. I want to sign some papers and go out for dinner with our friends in celebration.

Lycan is of the same mind. But dad also has money. Dad said he would pay for the wedding. That I don’t want.

That I’d rather have that money be put toward me and Lycan getting/having our own place or toward a kick-ass honeymoon at Disney.Dad also wants me to have a “real job” in an office or something.

Honestly I wouldn’t mind being a desk jockey in a cubicle farm some days but I’ll take what I can get here in Nowhereville with no networking/connections/friends in high places - which is pseudo-waitressing.

It pays real money (damn good money sometimes) so I’m pretty sure it’s a “real job”. But let’s get to the nitty titty gritty here: It’s not a middle-class white person job.

Which, admittedly, I do sometimes have a problem with as well. Since that’s what most of my peers have and I don’t: Nice, cushy, middle-class church-going white people jobs.

I work with single parents of all ages and colors, I work with people who live in shitty trailers and apartments, people who have multiple jobs to make ends meet,

people who are working well into old age to provide for their kids and grandkids. Hell, I work with actual (minor) criminals who get driven in every morning for their shift by the DoC.

Rarely in my job do you see someone with a degree (highschool or otherwise) outside of higher management. Lycan and I are sort of oddities in that regard.

It’s been an eye-opening experience, honestly, working with such a variety of people from walks of life that I never saw growing up.On a slightly related tangent - I want to go back to college.

Get a master’s - or hell, another bachelor’s, I’M NOT FUCKING PICKY AT THIS POINT WITH MY 2.6 GPA-HAVING ASS. Mom wants me to go to the same college as my sister to I can keep an eye on her.

I get that mom worries about her. I worry about her too. But she’s better. She’s doing alright, workload and related stress aside. I’m not having to stand between her and eating a bullet anymore.

Sister’s college also doesn’t offer anything I’m in for. They’re primary medical- and law-related. I won’t find a good arts and tech/animation program there.

However I doubt, at this point, that ANY college would take me. I haven’t done art in years so my portfolio is empty. My work history is… waitressing. Just the one place.

After a two-year gap between my bachelor’s and starting work that I’m technically far underqualified for.I want out.

Out of this fucking town where the parents of people I grew up with see me at my job and tip me out of pity because I’m doing what is largely considered a teenager’s job

while Shelbey Mayberry is now Shelbey McHasselhoff, wife of Mr. McHasselhoff who is a doctor and they live in the nice part of town with their two sproglings Swayzee and Shayelinn.

I’m tired of failure. I’m tired of listening to my parents argue every fucking night over stupid inane shit. I’m tired of everything. I just want to sleep for a year and see if things have changed.

But let’s be honest. I’ll probably be sitting in my parents’ house typing an updated rant on this same fucking subject next year.

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